


Empathy

by alicedragons



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (Very mild), (but not really), Brief joke about suicide, Empathetic bond, Explicit Sexual Content, Feeling each other's emotions/physical sensations, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sad smut, Smut, Solo Edge, Top and bottom Edge (he switches), past break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 00:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17928869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicedragons/pseuds/alicedragons
Summary: Edge is very involved in Rus's sex life. But not quite in the way he'd like to be.If he didn't share Rus's every emotion and physical sensation, it may have been easy to forget him. Instead, he's trapped with an ache of longing that might not even belong to him.





	Empathy

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent Spicyhoney sad smut! Read the tags if there's anything you're worried about. This is a bit weirder, but I loved the concept, so I had to do something (smutty) for it.

He could feel it again.

Edge placed his knife and fork on his plate, dinner uneaten, and walked swiftly upstairs. He closed the bedroom door and took off his jeans, lying back on the bed. Magic was already building at his pelvis, a cloud of deep, warm red. The arousal didn’t belong to him, though he still experienced it intensely. Sweat built on his bones as his magic heated, rushing downward. He slipped a hand into his boxers. He was hard. Ah. So it was that kind of night.

Edge knew more about Rus’s sex life than he cared to. He’d have blocked it out if he could have, but he hardly had a choice. Everything Rus felt, he felt too—to a degree. He was somewhat thankful their inexplicable connection only applied to the more intense feelings and emotions. Broken bones, broken hearts… sex. But not the uncooked ramen Rus ate at two in the morning. Blessedly.

He did, however, share his pleasure, whether he wanted it or not. Shutting his sockets, he lay back and ran his thumb over the head of his cock. Magic pulsed through him, burning. Having pleasure placed inside you was quite different to having it build normally. It was less controlled, more difficult to withhold. And naturally, it didn’t always come when convenient (literally). He had to be careful, and time things right, lest Rus know (or feel) what he was up to.

The bond went both ways, after all. 

It had been a huge convenience when they’d been together. If one of them reached climax, then so did the other. In this situation, it was less convenient. If Edge mistimed his peak, Rus might catch on. The thought of Rus… _feeling_ him, the thought of bringing him to pleasure without even touching him…

… not really where his mind should be right now. It wasn’t exactly assisting his self-control. But what else could he think about? He was quite literally sharing Rus’s pleasure. He may as well be the one fucking him—

Oh, he deserved a slap for that one! No. That wasn’t how this worked. Neither of them could control this. It was something they just had to take in stride. Nothing to do but accept it…

And in Edge’s case, enjoy it. Though it was shameful joy. Guilty, reluctant, disgraceful joy. (Though joy, nonetheless). He bucked into his hand, stifling a soft groan in his throat. Red was out, not that he spent much time here anymore, and the house was silent. Edge was alone.

He didn’t feel alone.

He felt warm. As if Rus were at his side again. As if it were his hand on Edge’s cock. As if his breath graced Edge’s cheek. As if he were whispering soft praises to spur Edge on.

There was a photo. An old photo, years old. Edge kept it in his nightstand drawer, and looked at it far too often. He’d folded it in half, to hide himself. To lessen his shame for keeping it. Some days, Rus’s softly embarrassed smile was all that kept him breathing.

Other days (like this one) it gave his memories heat, and provided an outlet for his arousal. Hand still squeezing his cock, he took the photo from its drawer and stroked the corner with his thumb. Rus smiled back at him, and pleasure rocked him. He tightened his fist and pumped his cock, guilt crawling up his spine. But it was outshone by bliss. Sweet ecstasy—and oh, Rus was getting close too, he could tell.

His climax hit him hard, and he barely had the sense to clamp his gloved hand around his cock to stop himself from spilling his release all over the bedsheets. He grit his teeth against the cry that threatened to escape him, sinking back into the bed and closing his eyes.

This was the best and the worst part. The afterglow. It wasn’t as intense as the sex itself, but he could sense how contented Rus was. Edge felt warm all over, yet cold inside. Who was Rus screwing tonight? Who was holding him in Edge’s place? Who got to see his smile as he closed his eyes and dozed, as he always did after reaching his climax.

Edge returned the photo to its drawer, banishing Rus from his mind. After cleaning himself up, he packed his untouched dinner into a container and stored it in the fridge. He would eat it, he promised himself (and Red, silently). Just not tonight. Tonight was… bad.

He tried to sleep, but to little avail. He felt too warm with his covers, and too exposed without them. His left socket throbbed, the old scar persistently reminding him of its existence. And inside, he ached. For Rus, for his touch, for his voice. Edge _missed_ him. Every day, he thought about him. It was hard not to when he could feel every ache Rus felt.

It had been his decision to end things. A decision he both did and didn’t regret. He wouldn’t take it back. But _stars,_ he wished he could. Turning down Rus’s offer to run away with him had been the second most difficult thing he’d ever done. The most difficult, had been walking away when Rus had asked— _begged_ him not to.

As on many nights, he lay awake, replaying his moments with Rus over and over in his head. Seeing Rus’s face light up when he saw Edge. Feeling Rus’s words as he whispered against his cheek. Watching him fall asleep in his arms when they lay together on the sofa. Soaking in the warmth of his soul as they made love and felt each other’s pleasure.

… and, he was getting aroused again. He cursed himself and turned on his lamp, intent on taking a walk—through the city streets or off the nearest skyscraper, he hadn’t decided yet. His phone vibrated and he glanced at it, expecting a ‘home late’ text from Red.

_ enjoy yourself? _

His chest seized. The number was unsaved, but it was easy to guess its source. But, how had he—? Edge turned the phone face-down and pulled on his boots. He would ignore it. He wouldn’t reply. He wouldn’t—

The phone persistently vibrated again and Edge snatched it off the table before his self-control kicked in.

_ i know you did. i felt it. _

Edge cursed. He’d been premature. He’d allowed himself to get lost in the fantasy and his climax had hit him a few seconds too early. Of course Rus had noticed. But—he couldn’t cave to this. He couldn’t see Rus.

_ Is there a reason you woke me up this late?  _ He replied, playing oblivious.

_ nice try. you’re thinking about me right now. i can feel it. _

Edge swallowed, squirming and willing his magic to cease. Unfortunately, Rus’s words were not helping matters in the least. He typed out two simple words, though it pained him to do so.

_ We can’t. _

_ why not? _

_ You know why. _

But he wanted to. _So_ much. He wanted to see Rus, to hold him, to touch him, to taste him, to _feel_ him. A few minutes passed before Rus replied again.

_ we could. like this. no one would know. _

He was right. No one would. They hadn’t told anyone about their bond, not even their brothers. It was theirs, and their secret. That thought alone was enough to warm Edge’s pubic bone. It was tempting. So tempting. But…

_ It’s still a risk. _

_ that isn’t a no. _

_ It isn’t a yes. _

_ i want this so much edge. i need you. _

Edge pressed the heel of his palm into his socket, tossing his phone aside. He couldn’t. This needed to stop. He needed to put a stop to it. Because it would start with this, then it would escalate, until Rus was back here, back in danger (back in his arms). They’d been apart for almost a year now, and Edge still wanted Rus more than anything. Still ached when he thought of him, still yearned for him. But his life… his life was a scrap for power, a target on his back, death threats on the daily—some genuine. Rus didn’t deserve that. Rus didn’t belong in his life.

_ i know you want this too,  _ came Rus’s text when Edge took too long to respond _._

_ I can’t, Rus. _

_ please. _

Edge inhaled sharply. He couldn’t tell which one of them was hurting—maybe it was both of them. Rus wanted this just as much as he did. Was it really a risk if no one knew? If no one could attach them? If no one could associate Rus with Edge in any way? He typed out one last message.

_ Delete these texts and don’t ever contact me this way again. _

Then he let his fingertips glide through his magic, coaxing it to take shape. His cunt formed wet, and he traced a finger over his outer folds and clit. Rus’s response was immediate. Warmth blossomed in Edge’s pelvic inlet and he inhaled through his nose, shutting his eyes. He dared to imagine what set of genitals Rus had formed. His cock, he decided. And he was stroking himself slowly, savouring it. Edge could picture it.

Maybe he’d slick himself up with his saliva. Edge shuddered, imagining his tongue sliding across his fingers. He pressed the tip of one finger inside himself, using his thumb to stimulate his clit. Rus had his eyes closed, Edge was certain. He always closed them when he was enjoying himself, blocking out his other senses and losing himself in the pleasure.

Edge grunted as warmth shot downward. Rus had found a sweet spot. Turning to bury his face in his pillow, Edge pushed two fingers inside himself and curled them, finding his own pressure point. Rus’s response was delectable. Edge’s entire body grew warm, and a coil of pleasure began to burn inside him. He rubbed his clit hard, pressing his face into the bedsheets.

Rus had asked him once if Edge would take him under his protection. In the truest sense. ‘ _i would do it, you know,_ ’ he’d said. ‘ _if you asked me. i’d wear your collar.’_

‘ _I would never ask that of you,_ ’ Edge had spat, with scathing disgust. Because the thought had repulsed him. Had. In time he’d realised it hadn’t been disgust, but shame—at himself, for wanting it. For wanting Rus in that way. _To see Rus wearing his mark…_

Edge cried out, Rus’s name on his tongue, and came, his cunt clenching around his fingers. A soft whine left him, unbidden, and he pressed a hand over his mouth, inhaling sharply to stop tears. The ache in his chest softened as Rus reached his own climax, his pleasure overwhelming Edge’s grief. Warmth spread outward from his soul, and he turned on his side, hugging himself.

This… was a mistake. He shouldn’t have allowed himself this. It had been both everything he’d needed and enough to break him. Because now, he knew, he wouldn’t be able to stay away.

And Rus would suffer for it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm growing a little attached to this idea, so I might write a follow-up to this. I do want to give the boys some proper time together. ;)


End file.
